


Antipodes

by HybridDragoness



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Anime), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, AntipodeanShipping, Drabble Collection, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, May Contain Some Smut?, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 17:44:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13323237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HybridDragoness/pseuds/HybridDragoness
Summary: A collection of short pieces celebrating two eccentric scientists from Giratina and the Sky Warrior.





	Antipodes

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing these because I felt like my writing had gotten far too stiff and clinical. I'm trying to loosen up my writing by just grabbing a prompt and running with it until I can't go any further. If things feel really disconnected or unusual, I'm just experimenting with style and trying to get words down freely.

**Lightbulb**  
“Are you alright up there?” Zero called from the bottom of the ladder.  
He heard another string of muttered curses from the auburn-haired professor, and Zero wondered whether he should offer his assistance. Though the laboratory’s high ceilings did well to stave off any feeling of claustrophobia, the practicality of changing blown light globes was definitely questionable.  
“Just peachy!” Newton finally replied. The continued muttering felt like a contradiction.  
Zero held the ladder firmly, all the while sighing to himself over Newton’s stubborn attitude. Though, he couldn’t deny that there was one positive thing that came from this occasional inconvenience. He gazed upward again without trying to make his line of sight too obvious.  
“I can give it a shot if you like?” Zero tried again. It was purely to break the silence - he already knew Newton wouldn’t give up.  
He swallowed thickly as he noticed Newton do a little shimmy at the top of the ladder. He occasionally wondered how a man of Newton’s age and profession had managed to keep his legs, and other areas of interest - so well-toned. The two of them spent so much time indoors at the laboratory, Zero often forgot how much Newton liked hiking.  
_SMASH!!_  
Zero snapped out of his daze as the lightbulb shattered against the tiles.

 **Smell**  
What had once been a balm for his soul now only reopened old wounds. Newton never understood why he had decided to keep Zero’s old lab coat. When they had fought, Zero had thrown the garment to the floor as if it were diseased. When he had been the only one in left in the laboratory, surrounded by the ambience of whirring computers and beeping devices, it had all turned to white noise. He had tried to follow Zero, tried to talk sense into him. But in the end, he returned alone. The discarded lab coat lay in the doorway, looking somehow so sad in its abandonment. Newton had nearly thrown the darn thing in the trash at that moment, but as he had brought the stuff, starchy fabric to his face, the scent that lingered between the threads clung to his senses. Something deep within him, something primal, said ‘no, don’t do this’, and years on, that feeling remained. Even though he knew the scent was no longer there, it must’ve been a sensory memory that was triggered every time he breathed the fabric; the ghost of a scent.

 **Momentary**  
Newton lies awake under the clinically stiff hotel sheets, gazing with half lidded eyes at the sleeping figure beside him. He can see a near perfect silhouette against the intrusive lights of the city beyond the drawn curtains. In the dimness he can make out the fine lines of Zero’s ear, neck, down to his shoulders and arms. He looks over the sight, trying to map each individual line and shape to his memory. The younger man takes a deep breath in his slumber – like a sigh of content.  
He tempts fate and shuffles closer under the sheets, and gently, gently reaches his arm out. His whole body is rigid with the worry he will wake his sleeping beauty, and with painfully slow movements, he drapes his arm over the rise of Zero’s hip. His apprentice stirs slightly and rolls flat onto his back; his resting face now in Newton’s full view. The air-conditioning hums quietly and a car horn blares somewhere in the streets below their hotel room.  
This is perfection, the professor thinks to himself as he commits every second of this moment to his mind. He had spent so long dreading this convention; but he had watched Zero stand up to a crowd of hundreds of his peers and seen him speak with such confidence in their project. He had gained their support and their approval – something Newton had struggled to do for years. All of Zero’s passion, energy and enthusiasm made Newton realise he had never loved someone so completely before.  
And he made sure Zero knew that.  
He presses his lips to Zero’s cheek so lightly, like a butterfly landing on a blossom. The younger man is again unresponsive, still deep in the arms of sleep, but Newton is okay with this. He holds him close, fighting the creeping tiredness so that he can relish this moment just a bit longer. He never wants to forget this.

 **Domestic**  
The past year had been a surprise for Zero. Having known himself as the most detached and unsociable creature on the earth, he was astounded with how quickly he had settled into domesticity with his colleague. Had someone have told him, that in the future he’d be happily singing along to the radio while hand-washing dishes with a man nearing his forties, Zero would’ve passed out laughing.  
But here he was, doing exactly that. Admittedly, there was a glass or two (or three?) of brandy involved, but it didn’t matter. For the first time in a long time, Zero was happy, and that’s all that he cared about.  
“I have to say, as brilliant as you are with solving equations and singing pop songs, you’re a terrible dishwasher,” Newton remarked, all the while wearing a grin that simply dared to be wiped off. “If I owned a restaurant, I’d have fired you weeks ago.”  
“Shut up, it’s not like you’re drying them any better – look at those streak marks!” He pointed without thinking, and splashed a good handful of soapy water at his superior. “Besides, if you owned a restaurant they would’ve closed you down for failing the health and safety inspections.”  
“You wound me!”  
“No, you do a good job of that yourself tripping over the ‘efficient’ wiring.”  
“Lies!”  
“Keep telling yourself that!”

 **Jugular**  
Zero suppresses a moan as his face flushes. The feeling of Newton’s lips against his tender throat sets alight his flesh, and a molten heat begins to grow in his belly.  
The bristly hairs of Newton’s beard tickle his skin, and Zero can’t help but smile as he feels the professor gently suck at his jugular. Zero presses the pads of his fingers against Newton’s scalp, drawing a low sigh from the older man. He wants there to be marks in the morning, and he finally lets go of the obscene whine he had been holding in.

 **Outside**  
The day of his release came about like any other day. Zero had been in prison for so long, time had felt so indeterminate. It hadn’t always felt that way, however. During the earlier period of his incarceration, Newton had visited him almost on a daily basis. At that time, he had barely been receptive to his former master’s interactions. He had still been reeling from the collapse of his ambitions and didn’t really know how – or what, to feel about it all. Nevertheless, he appreciated those visits now, even when they had started to become less frequent.  
Eventually, Newton stopped coming altogether, and Zero never knew why.  
The feeling of moving on ceased and everything began to stagnate. Time warped, and what he had once felt to be impatience for the future, was now a static nothingness. He felt like a puppet, moved around at the whims of others, engaging in his daily prison routines on auto-pilot; merely existing.  
The day had come, and the prison guards escorted him out of the cell, exchanged his striped uniform for ordinary clothes, and signed his forms. Before he knew it, he was outside, blinking hazily at the brightness of the world around him. Autumn’s grip on Sinnoh was evidently slipping. All around, the trees that were burning orange in their seasonal decay were beginning to shed their leaves. Some had already lost their autumnal fire, leaving only the greyed, skeletal frames to line the streets.  
The spaciousness felt alien – almost suffocating. Zero tightened the scarf around his neck, subconsciously seeking some kind of comfort away from the yawning openness. Without knowing what to do with himself, he let his feet carry him down the sidewalk. One step after the other, the scenery passed by. Even after the years he had spent imprisoned, the city had hardly changed. Some old businesses he remembered had been replaced, and coffee shops had changed hands. Beyond a few paint jobs and new signage, it was largely as it had been left.  
As he rounded the corner, a draught blew down the long open street and billowed his scarf and hair. He came to realise that he had been walking to Newton’s old apartment all along. He hadn’t even considered the possibility of the professor moving homes and almost felt foolish for not noticing his path earlier. The sight of a familiar parked vehicle stirred an indescribable, and unexpected feeling in Zero’s chest. His thoughts were a flurry as he began to walk closer to the old apartment. He didn’t know what Newton would say, or what he would say for himself either. He just continued to move. Do now, think later.  
Each step closer brought back memories of that place; the first time Zero ever visited, to the time they had moved in together to save on living costs - funnelling all their finances towards the project. From the mundane all the way to the intimate – everything he thought he had sealed away within himself came flooding back in an odd, turbulent delirium of nostalgia.  
And it all ended. A fleeting glance through the front window and the universe had stilled. Nostalgia turned to nausea, and Zero suddenly felt very, very wrong.  
He stepped back, and pressed himself against the wall, out of sight. Muffled voices chatted from within the walls of the apartment. The bricks of these old buildings had never been very good at soundproofing, as he had found out long ago. The otherwise fond memory seemed now paled as he heard a laugh that was all too recognisable, alongside one he did not know. But he needn’t ask who she was, as they were having what seemed to be a pleasant discussion. Zero couldn’t help but be swallowed up by the feeling of smallness. Though the words were indecipherable, Zero could hear the tone of Newton’s voice – a soft and level, genuine sound, completely unlike the boisterous one most were acquainted with. That was a voice reserved for the people closest to him.  
A tiny part of him still thought he ought to knock on the door, but that little idea was completely consumed by the hollowness that now enveloped him. He wanted nothing more than to be far from this place as he once again let his feet take him away.  
He loathed himself for that feeling of hope he had let rise. How stupid he was to have thought time had suspended itself like it had done for him behind bars.  
How stupid.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.  
> I'll be getting back to the main fic Transversal once I've finished moving and have my head sorted out. I want to write that story a little more loosely, because as mentioned before, I feel like I've gotten really rigid and too aware of what I'm trying to communicate.  
> If you have any prompts for these two beautiful nerds you want to send my way, or an idea, shoot them in the comments to me and I'll see what I can do.  
> Nevertheless, thank you for your time and I wish you all a wonderful day/night, wherever you are.


End file.
